Master of Death & Artist of War
by My Story Sounds Edgy But Isn't
Summary: Ōtsutsuki Ōkunai, the blossom of life. The progenitor of magic & chakra on Earth. Near-death, he desperately summons for a successor. A young Sasuke, mere days after the slaughter of his clan, now under the care of Death, War, Conquest & Famine: four immortal witches imbued with the power of chakra. (I can't possibly fit the summary I want in here... so just have a look)
1. Prologue: The other boy who lived

– **Prologue – 'The other boy who lived...'**

[ **Small Details Matter,** **Lore Friendly** (Except for the crap I need - like the Otsutsuki and the Four Horsemen... but Death was already Canon, so enjoy... I suppose), **Realistic** , **No Sasuke/Magic World Bashing** , **If there is a fight I will not downgrade the true power of a character, IN CHARACTER AT ALL TIMES** , **SHIP ALL YOU WANT BUFFET** ]

This story is a slow burn, so forgive me. But to appreciate this Fanfic, I implore you; wait patiently for what is to come. (Also, I'm a slow uploader... I'm Australian and lazy as hell)

 ***Read at your own pace, absorb the plot points properly - I'm not American, so I don't repeat stuff 100 times like in a documentary***

 _*Warning, this fanfiction contains disturbing scenes and extreme psychological violence, sexual violence and violence in general. It will contain mild coarse language later down the line. Rating is T during the first parts until the verse is ready to mature. I do like my lemons. I do not have rights for Harry Potter or Naruto so please don't sue me, lol.*_

* * *

 _ **"I told him that he had undone me by his obstinacy and that I would not favour... in any sort, his former folly..." –**_ **Sir Walter Raleigh on the El Dorado Expedition.**

* * *

It had been a while since alarms had sounded in the Hidden Leaf Village, so when the nearby Patrolmen lazed around on the long bendy roads of Konoha, exchanging small talk and greetings – the sound of a bell, took them by surprise.

" **IT'S THE UCHIHA DISTRICT! ROUND UP THE ANBU!** " a tactless male voice cried out, belonging to a guard who desperately pushed past, a small crowd of worried, whispering onlookers – clogging the path the man needed to head down. All eager to understand the root of the problem.

Save one, who parted from the excitement, noiselessly. When he saw no one looking, he jogged to turn the bend – halting to a trot and then a slow walk.

Rain – Itachi could feel it, loud and blossoming on the concrete, further ahead; little timid flowers of water dispersed in intervals, like the drag of percussion drum.

Tiredly, the Uchiha glanced up at veils of thunder. He walked slow heavy steps down the side of the road, right along the shadows edge; the stalls empty in the shopping district. Mostly silent. But not quite, not with the ruckus stirring everyone up.

Though late at night, the lights were still on for a few of the families, with haughty cheers and drunken laughs spouted amongst the distant booms of lightning, and screams of Ninja running about – still yet, the rain had not caught on, not to him at least. His still red eyes watched gloomily, as the road – not too far in front of him, dotted with the distant wet... came closer and closer. He dragged his hood over the bloodily beaten armour of the ANBU black ops, just before the pour hit him.

Just before his tears hit the ground.

He peeked back sadly; already missing the time he could embrace his brother with love, and comfort. Missing the time, where his parents would support him, and nothing was wrong with his small little village world. Where he could spar, with his cousin Shisui – and pretend, like nothing was going to change.

Peeling off his Konoha headband – a symbol of his affiliation and loyalty, he tearily snatched a kunai from his side – staring long and hard at the decision that was made for him. ' _Sorry, Sasuke... maybe next time._ ' he promised... before stabbing away at the metal – sparks flying, as he ripped away from his bond with the village.

Then silence...

' _First... I'll meet with the Hokage..._ ' he growled hatefully, ' _then Madara._ ' he decided, thoughts turning grim, his mind wary of the already long night.

And off he went with a flicker...

* * *

 **Morning**

It was a dread-filled day, with cognac leaves storming the ground, as a tempest of rain pillaged the streets of Konoha. The storm struck dumbly against the concrete. Its echo booming in the ears of the village.

For some, this was the perfect, beautiful day. For others, an ugly nightmare.

Hiruzen, the Third Hokage and leader of the village... was the latter; his normally tan face a pale ghost white – his visage a gaunt midnight sheen, probably from the fact that one of his clans had been virtually wiped off the face of the earth.

He often found himself wandering the office aimlessly, thinking about why the second Hokage had chosen him as a successor. Because of him, he had to look Itachi dead in the eyes, and tell him that, " _ **This**_ was the only way."

Fuck that. That was not the only way, and now, clan Uchiha was lost to him. At least almost...

He gathered his thoughts, stabbing his lit pipe with the tip of his pinky, wordlessly breathing a fire jutsu to keep the smoke alight, just for a little while longer.

With a single puff, he strutted to the oak door of his office, finally letting in a bit of light in his life. He needed it.

He sported his usual uniform. The customary hat and Haori with a red, full-length kimono tied with a white sash. Too hefty to be any practical. Perhaps that was why he felt so weak all the time, particularly in stints of crisis. The clothing was creased because he slept in it... he hardly ever removed himself out of it, unless in the case of washing the article.

Hiruzen made a strange face at the thought of it - the hygiene had never bothered him until he thought about it. Which meant, he would have to stop thinking about it. He gave a weak little huff, his hands clenched tiredly as he ambled off towards the bathroom, outside his office.

Each day he spent at the Hokage monument – cooped up in his dark little room, staring out at the village perimeters, made him often wonder at what age he would die; the candles he lit in his office, left him staring at them, as they melted and waxed - each time hoping that the end of their lives would indicate the end of his own. It only gave him more reason to hate his role as leader of Konoha.

"There's nothing good about being Hokage." he murmured with a sigh, sucking another puff from his pipe, as he bowed his head in acknowledgement of the Shinobi guards patrolling the building innards - catching him leaving the restroom, which he hoped they hadn't heard what he said. Their low respectful mutterings of 'Lord Third' reaching his old ears.

There were the ceremonies, the politics of the elite clans and the Hyuga with their god-forsaken inbreeding. He had to deal with the porting of agriculture and industry – all 'very' fun things indeed. He just wanted to sit back and relax, and to be a proper old man – enjoying what little exultations he could.

Instead, he sat in his office, doing paperwork – with absolutely no items of interest to entertain him. At least, none of a happy nature.

For instance,

The clan massacre – another blemish on his old soul.

To be completely honest, the "God of Shinobi" (The Third Hokage's honorary nickname) was at first dejected, yet relieved at the outcome of the clan massacre. The Coup d'état was no stress-free situation to elucidate. There was no simple way of dealing with a plotting group of traitors.

Subsequently, he'd have it no other way – at least, that's what he'd have liked to think. But there was this moral integrity, biting him in the ass each and every time he made some wrong move. Like that time, when he met with Danzo – one of the three village elders 'helping' him with his task of leadership.

"A terrible loss I'm sure." Danzo had said to him in private, a grin splitting his face as he balled the lifeless eyes of the civilian corpses. What the village elder had said, as opposed to what he was thinking was vastly different. Hiruzen knew this but paid it no mind – because what was the point in arguing something beyond his clutch?

There was no point. Yet that didn't make it any easier.

There was no reason for Shisui Uchiha to run away. He had proposed the idea of using Kotoamatsukami, his Mangekyou Sharingan's unstoppable genjutsu (illusion jutsu) - as a method of brainwashing the Uchiha clan back into submission. When the police force realised the disappearance of the young adult, only one face came to mind for the Hokage. That of Danzo, the power-hungry hypocrite.

Hence, another grey hair would join with his scalp.

' _Honestly, fuck this job._ '

Danzo and the other elders pranced about like victorious war heroes as if they'd thwarted some evil plot to overthrow the government. Yet only half of that was true. None of the hate, persecution or resentment towards the Uchiha clan, was ever made public towards the other civilians. Only, "they were wrong... so we dealt with it".

That is what it meant to be a hidden village in the elemental nations, a politic ridden horror show. Half of it was noble shinobi, great ninjas – the other, old shits ruling puppet over a small bunch of murder clans.

' _No wonder the second Hokage gave me this job... it's fucked, he wanted to kill himself._ ' the Third Hokage mused, agreeing wholeheartedly with his imaginary sentiment.

Hiruzen scratched gently at the liver spots on his face, sighing tiredly at the things time had wrought upon him – he'd remember one morning an age past his prime, where he'd woken up, and in the mirror was his ghastly dark sight, now he was used to it. Used to being old that is.

He came to reality once he realised he was at the door of the building – he would finally be out of this dark place.

He put on his best fake smile. He waved his secretary good morning. He said hello to all the people, greeted children as they ran off to the academy.

He also made the mistake of going through the market sector, where he'd have to deal with the smell of dead fish for a good while. Yet it was worth the trouble since he could walk by the blistering autumn trees, still being peppered with heavy rain. 'Sort of beautiful', he thought - as he kept an arm over his face to see clearly.

The sight of all this reminded him of why he wasted his life away. To protect. His people. This sight. This village. This beauty.

The walk would have helped calm his poor old soul, if not for what he'd spot next.

A boy. The old man squinted slightly in disbelief, his hand muffling his bearded chin as he groaned painfully in despair.

He was a boy with raven black hair and a recently acquired look of dishevelment. He had a fair girlish face, that could no longer learn how to smile. He looked thinner than he was supposed to. Though that probably came from the rain sticking his clothes to his petite structure. It was an awful sight. A normal person would avoid the boy, yes, "avoid this strange... stupid child - staring soullessly into the rain".

But...

He. Was. Not. Just. Any. Boy.

That was Sasuke Uchiha.

That was Sasuke Uchiha, not in the hospital.

That was Sasuke Uchiha, whose clan had been wiped out last night.

Sasuke… was walking to the Uchiha compound, where the massacre had occurred - though Hiruzen doubted any of the bodies would remain, he'd dealt with it last night.

Hiruzen sighed. The boy was in denial. He had to be in denial, why else would he walk back there, to confirm his loss?

His heart sunk, as no ounce of compassion could infer the pain and suffering that the child was feeling at every waking moment.

His family was dead. His mother, father, uncle… every living thing that he'd grown to love, hate or even know had disappeared – with exception to one… his brother. The brother who had done the foul deed. Hiruzen couldn't even begin to imagine what it felt like, to have been betrayed by a loving family – to such a degree.

The third Hokage moved to approach the young boy and to take him back, but found that he couldn't… not really.

Because a lone thought invaded his frail, old mind.

'He has no home, and you did this to him.'

* * *

'I'm disappointed in you Sasuke…'

'I'm so very disappointed…'

'I wonder what Dad said about me to Mom…'

'You're so weak.'

'…one day… when you have the same eyes as I…'

'…climb over the wall…'

'…come before me!'

"…"

and die...

...

Blood decorated his knuckles, with the faint drip-drip of gore rolling down the sides of his left arm. Sasuke bore the face of a statue, unaware, uncaring and despondent.

His cold exterior held the hottest of interiors, as a roaring red hatred bubbled within his eyes.

They stared darkly up at a gloating gibbous moon, following closely, the dark clouds of shapeless things, their bellies glowering from the bright village lights below.

He hadn't moved for hours, he couldn't, not with the murder tape behind him.

The lights morphed, slowly and steadily until…

The village fell away… he would at least try to remember it...

...

His mind sent him back, far back. Deep into the crevices of his past.

There were only vast stretches of darkness, punctuated by dimly struck lamps; he stood on strange ground under an unfamiliar sky.

A full moon, similar to the one from before competed for his attention, a bloodily toned atmosphere, but the monochromatic stone of the Uchiha district gave the impression of warring waves suddenly frozen at the whim of some godlike artist.

'It is necessary…'

The warbled notes of his parent's screams topped his ears like a shrieking banshee – with the shadowy figure of his brother topside over their corpses.

The mad "idiot god" laughed gleefully over their deaths, his sword plunging into their bodies over and over – gushing with pleasure as he covered every stopped organ with perforations.

The image played for what seemed like hours, as tears streamed down the young boy's face – standing paralyzed in the dazzling starlight, with no idea what he wanted to feel about the brother who had betrayed him... and no idea where to eat... no idea what to do next.

No idea if he should give himself a 'next'.

What a wonderful-wonderful life…

* * *

The next morning...

Naruto was not as clueless as he made himself out to be, 'dattebayo!'

So, when it was another day in the classroom when the academy was roaring with rumours and gossip, naturally the hyperactive ninja would want to at least 'chip in' on all the action. Just typical that his verbal punching bag Sasuke wasn't around for him to capitalize on it.

And it was just that.

Sasuke wasn't around. Moreover, to Naruto's far from perfect – but working – memory, Sasuke had never before missed a class. The perfect little Uchiha cool kid always made Naruto angry, therefore, he'd have to deal with his crap – for at least the next few years in the ninja academy.

Naruto was a short kid, shorter than most at the academy – stemming from his malnutrition and lack of money. Times were hard and his clothes looked harder. He wore a green t-shirt, orange pants and a pair of goggles – something he'd found at the rearward of some back-alley restaurant on the other side of the village. His shinobi sandals were worn but functional, and his face had one or two bandages tapering its sides – from all the scratches he got pulling off his little pranks.

The blonde gifted Iruka a look of confusion, with his tanned teacher frowning, before attempting another soothing of the classroom. 'He looks a little too busy to ask right now...' Naruto thought.

Knowing that nobody would tell him the ins and outs of the latest gossip, he decided to sleep on the already frantic classroom; he didn't think he'd be missing much.

* * *

One day went by.

Two days went by.

Heck… three.

By now, Naruto knew something was up. Because the "idiot" hadn't been at the school for three days.

'That's three too many…' he thought, almost barking it out in the middle of a training session with Kiba. Who promptly continued to kick his ass.

He thought about asking Sakura for the info, but that probably wouldn't end up very well for him.

So naturally, he went to see the Hokage.

Naruto knew exactly where to find the old man. After all, he was always in the same place. The monument office. So naturally, Naruto went straight there.

It took a while, maybe a good ten minutes or so, but he eventually got there. It was directly under the stone carvings of the Hokage faces by the cliff edge, held over the entire village.

In Naruto's eyes. There were three main landmarks in the entire village. 1. Ichiraku Ramen. 2. The stone faces. 3. The Hokage Monument. (4. The toilet)

He ran up the many stairs, huffing as he went - before darting past the guards who glanced quickly at his face. Verifying his identity of course.

Hiruzen didn't look too good, almost a little sick if you were to ask Naruto – and he knew what sick looked like – especially in the mirror staring at himself after eating bad food (In front of the toilet). The third Hokage had become something like a father figure to young Naruto, guiding him around the village every once in a while, and giving him spare bits of advice whenever possible. The only other person to come close to the Hokage's level of care was Iruka, who always treated him to some ramen. Therefore, Iruka was also a top dog.

At the very sight of Naruto, the old man seemed to beam, the warmth returning to his face.

Also, in the room was an older looking man with thick black hair and a silk wrapped face covering one eye. He didn't look very inviting – and he didn't look particularly happy with Naruto's entrance. His clothing was a mix of two long dress like robes, one black and the other blue, the black part cut short in the middle to reveal the rest. The two elders sat in their respective seats, one the Hokage's, so naturally the comfortable looking one in Naruto's position - and the other, who sat in a dusty bamboo chair, despite the fact there were many other chairs with much higher quality.

The room had a fair few bookshelves too, with papers scattered around in filing cabinets that looked ready to explode.

Naruto was tempted to step back out, but Hiruzen waved him inside with a, 'come... come Naruto... here." before offering a chair.

The Hokage office was slightly dusty, though not as dusty as Naruto's abode. It smelt strongly of tobacco, and there wasn't much artificial lighting around. Let alone natural lighting.

"Who is this?" the other old man said tiredly, wrinkling his nose as he looked back to Hiruzen.

"Naruto Uzumaki…" the Third faltered, almost laughing, "you know the rest Danzo."

"And why have you invited him into the room during our discussion?" the one named Danzo hissed. His last words seethed a fit of veiled anger, and his eyes were shut tight, lips pursed in a way similar to a chef tasting his worst dish. His single uncovered eye fluttered back open, staring at the Hokage with murderous intent, and a look that said, 'you're not going to get away.' It was the same kind of look Naruto gave when he accidentally ordered the "worst" of the best ramen dishes in Ichiraku.

"But-"

"Why haven't you sent Kakashi to track him down already? He's only a boy, three days shouldn't be far! For 'Kami' sake, he's not even a Genin."

"Well, there is a problem with the tracker squadron and-"

"The Uchiha are a great asset to this village and I Hiruzen! We can't be losing this boy; the ramifications are unprecedented! There is a reason, I LEFT ONE UCHIHA! THE OTHER VILLAGES WILL COME FOR US SOON!" Danzo yelled, furiously – visible eye almost bulging.

Naruto gazed back and forth between the two elders, his gaze of confusion slowly transforming into one of dread.

Like an equation, the pieces all pulled together on their own – and realization dawned on the Uzumaki boy. For the first time ever, he regretted not listening to the gossip.

"-wherein the blazes could he have gone!?"

* * *

 **And that ladies & gentlemen, is the end of the prologue. It is deliberately short… dreadfully so, and some of the rewrites I'm doing at the moment are taking up 20k words per chapter so… yeah.**

 **With my re-watch/re-read of the Harry Potter series, I fell back in love with the franchise – so I've decided to bite down hard and pump out a prologue to a story I've been piecing together in my head.**

 **After reading HP, I've changed my third person writing style for this particular story… I don't like it… it's too sudden and abrupt. If you do end up seeing me writing the way I normally write in my soon to be released re-writes – then you'll get the idea.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed… it is small, but that's because there are a lot of characters and insignificant details that I want to get past.**

 **The other chapters are gonna be my standard length of writing… and that'll come when it's ready… until then. Adieu!**

 **P.S – that's the last time you'll be hearing from the other Shinobi in a long time.**


	2. Chapter 1: Quirrell & Sasuke

– Chapter 1 –

" **The Conquistador dressed as a Gypsy"**

* * *

This story is a slow burn, so forgive me if I do not go directly into the heart of the subject matter – that being its existence as a Crossover fanfiction. To appreciate this plot, I implore you; patiently wait for what is to come.

 ***Warning, this fanfiction contains disturbing scenes and extreme psychological violence, sexual violence and violence in general. It will contain mild coarse language later down the line. Rating is T during the first parts until the verse is ready to mature. I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto so please don't sue me, lol.***

 **Any actions written that you may disagree with, please don't point any pitchforks at me, it's merely character perspective. Realism first… (In a world of Magic… wow that's ironic…)**

 **If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask. I'm open to criticism, your analysis brings me joy. Also, sorry about my sluggish uploads, I only just finished my finals for year 12 – and it's super important for me. Therefore, this may seem somewhat… rushed… standards fu.**

 **Also… 15 follows you guys are awesome!**

* * *

 **Review response**

HydraliskShin: "Eh, it's not very original but you could do lots with it, keep up ur work"

 **Thnx lol**

Rain-XIX: "Interesting start. Look forward to more"

 **I'll do my best to keep to a schedule then.**

TheSixteenthHorseman111: "Poor Hiruzen"

 **Doesn't get to rest, does he?**

The Jingo: "How can the pairings be secret when you've put them in the tags?"

 **Hi Jingo, love your stories, yeah I'm just outlining the character groups. Fixed it lol.**

Don't Mind me: "There's not much yet I could comment on but I'm sure I'm excited to read more."

 **You just reminded me to start editing again, this is like half done.**

1968: "I was thinking that somehow Hinata pops up after a while and helps"

 **Hmmm… you'll just have to wait and see lol, thanks for the suggestion.**

Setsuna: Wait wait wait. . . No offence, but I'm kinda confused right now. So hopefully this won't be a Sasuke-is-Harry story, but will there be any sexual stuff happening between Itachi and Sasuke? I think I would like it better if there was no incest, but it's your choice as the author. I'm not against violence or dark things, though. Actually, I might live off of them. And are you going to change Sasuke's or Itachi's Mangekyo abilities? I personally liked Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi, but I'm fine with the idea of different abilities. But Susanoo will still be there right? I mean, apparently, all Mangekyo Sharingan has the Susanoo. Although, if Sasuke doesn't implant Itachi's eyes he won't have the complete Susanoo. I'm sorry about the rambling, and please keep up the good work!

 **While I am a strange person, I don't think I have anything for incest. Not that I'm unforgiving of it. But it just isn't like the character. Sasuke is his own different character as is Harry Potter - the two will interact accordingly to any situational grievance or otherwise. If you want a dark story, well you've come to the right place. I recently watched a theory video pertaining to the story of an Uchiha to their mangekyou abilities - it's super interesting. Might be slightly head-cannon, but it's the only reason I'm really doing what I'm doing. Sasuke being in a whole new verse means he's going to get a new Mangekyou ability... and maybe he'll have the old ones too.**

Without further ado... leggo

* * *

"Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness." by H. P. Lovecraft.

* * *

 **COLOMBIA**

" _Aquí está tu café._ "

" _Muchas gracias._ "

Secundus Themistocles was a man who relished his coffee and found special enjoyment in it at that.

With his cup, he took a light sip, smiling severely at the warm, glowing touch of the liquid. A sensation that he felt he'd earned while basking in the invocation of Pyrrhic triumph.

He then groaned a little. Balling his fists, before briskly picking at the beverage, dolloping two hefty teaspoons of white sugar into it.

His stature was tall; his brown hair and beard well-trimmed and even fashionable – just the way he liked it. His nose was straight and elven like – as he'd never gotten into a fight – and thank god for that! His dress sense was nothing out of the ordinary, with his slightly sweated white shirt, camel brown khaki shorts and a straw hat.

The only way you'd tell him apart from the locals would be his accent or name, which was appropriately western and with a touch of the Mediterranean.

His blue, cat-like eyes stared wishfully at the swaying backside of the blonde server who'd aided him his coffee, as he lounged comfortably into the dark brown plastic chair of the café – his long fingers held taught around the handle of his cup. He was at the back of the establishment, away from many of the other occupants, who sat as couples or friends within their own social perimeters. He made sure to stay away from those.

He found the place rather charming. It had walnut wood slabs for tables and oak pillars that led to no roof at all – with flowerpots that dangled from beams or were otherwise decorating the ground in pots every few metres or so.

The only thing unpleasant was the sun, which beamed down on him relentlessly. He could simply move to a spot with some shade, but he didn't care too much about it. Probably because there was a nice soft breeze, cooling him down every few moments or so.

The street before him bustled with movement, as people got to wherever they needed to go – and every day seemed like another festival – which it really wasn't, but he liked to hope.

The atmosphere was tropical – humid and all – lush green scenery blending into the basic structures of the suburban area. He found it very mystical, like the drawings he saw of dryads or druids, merging their structures with nature. He imagined it useful for potion making, and the experience palliative.

Seeing the street clear up slightly, he put down his mug with a clatter. Then with his free hand, pulled out a pocket watch of ornate colouration – ranging from gold to black. The pattern made the image of a siren, with eyes of lavish blue sapphires.

His thumb pushed it open with a click before he made a wilting face at the time, and his shoulders sagged. He was slow to return the watch to his belt, making sure to hear a resounding click broadcast out.

He remained quiet. His daffy expression unchanged, as he reached for his mug once again – pulling it towards himself with jerky aggravated motions.

Finishing his coffee, he dispensed the blonde waiter a generous tip. Patting her ass before walking away quickly, and looking over his shoulder with a glint of mischief.

She yelped, spinning around and blushing back at him, as she offered him a look of subtle lust. He gave her an endearing wink, which she returned with a favourably sincere smile – blowing him a kiss, before dancing back to work.

' _Oh… she spoils me._ ' he thought warmly to himself, and in a better mood than before, ' _I should really stop that before she actually does something._ ' he chuckled, sauntering down the street with a few confused looks directed at him.

He made his way into the nearby museum, which stood out like a sore thumb, being near the vicinity of so many small buildings and such. Because of this, he felt very little difficulty in navigating the area.

He entered, spotting his surroundings, with a few dismissive glances headed his way, before briefly pulling out his Spanish dictionary as he waited to order a ticket. He still wasn't quite learned of the language yet, but before long, he said his thanks and continued.

There weren't many people around much to the brunettes disappointment. "Not enough curious thinkers." he liked saying to his friends when he rambled on about the education system.

He made his way into the back of the museum, where he stared in awe, at a stunning piece of gold plate mail armour. He analysed it with detail, a crescent frown on his face while he pulled out a notepad to write some things down – he seemed a little more stressed now, with his back straight and his arms tucked in.

During this time, he barely noticed a man who'd pulled up next to him, before feeling a finger tapping his terse shoulder.

"Secundus?"

Themistocles froze immediately.

He'd never had much of a good memory, but he was inclined to remember a few things, especially that of a voice; it was of middling pitch, marginally shrill in some bits, but overall constant – while his own voice was low, varying and calm – like the trustworthy call of a mother and father.

He slowly turned his head to the other gentleman, recognition brightening his face, "Quirrell?" he questioned, not really believing it until the man nodded a yes, "I thought it was you." he self-confessed. Scratching his head lightly with a touch of red in his face.

Quirrell was a bald young man in western style travelling wears, and he was a good half head shorter than Secundus, but clearly not of average height. He had thin lips, a Grecian nose, a long face and intelligent eyes that darted off periodically – nervously recalculating, as they aligned back into their original positions. In his left hand, held firmly a copy of "The Dark Arts Outsmarted" – which had numerous post-it notes, stabbing from all open sides of the book.

While Secundus was a tanned man, Quirrell was quite pale in comparison – and had all the characteristics of a workaholic, with his relatively small frame and thin muscles. Another trait, pertaining to his occupation as a working person, were the shadows under his eyes, slightly sagged and extremely tired. He looked like the type of man to work himself to death, just for the delight of it – which was probably why he was reading indoors, at a museum mind you.

Being the older man, and hoping to wash away the others anxiousness, Secundus simpered into a casual greeting, carefully moving to shake the man's hand as he said to him, "You're finally here."

Quirrell eyed the limb for a few silent moments, before reluctantly taking it with purposeful restraint – and an odd expression warring his blank slate of a face.

Yes, he was always quite anxious as Themistocles's memory served to tell – and for no real reason. Except maybe for the fact that he _seemed_ small. Even though his personality was what really made him look ' _frail_ '.

He had to remember to be careful with his movements around him; anything sudden would probably scare him.

His nervous face twitched into a smile, and the grip on his book seemed to loosen slightly, "Yeah, well I came as soon as possible," Quirrell said with a short laugh, "didn't expect you of all people to call for me." he admitted quietly, letting go of his hand, "It's been quite a while."

Themistocles stifled a sigh by pursing his lips, while the corners of his mouth quirked up, beaming at his old friend.

"Well, how can I not remember the brilliant Quirinus Quirrell?" Secundus laughed, at which his words, Quirrell seemed to cringe. He then nodded his head in the direction of the nearby armour, "Well? How about working for me? I remember you telling me you wanted a firsthand experience!" he educed, gently nudging his friend in the shoulder, and recoiling a tad when he barely felt any flesh – or at least of the muscle kind.

"Oh…" the young man gave an uneasy glance at the said suit of armour, but swiftly gave an answer, "as much as I'd appreciate the offer, archaeology isn't something I want to specialise in. Even if that means I don't get to work with _you_ of all people." Quirrell grudgingly stated, giving a mirthless laugh while shuffling back a bit. His expression, unchanging.

The taller man scoffed at his remark, "There's no better experience," he said with an affronted tone, "fresh out of Hogwarts and my junior doesn't accept my gracious offer! Who would've thought?" he crowed, arching his vertebral back and wrinkling his nose as an obvious tease.

Quirrell's face blanched and the skinhead seemed to shrink a little, as he moved in closer to whisper something in Secundus's ear – he seemed almost eager to run – "Hush about the _Hogwarts_ business! What if a _muggle_ hears you?" he hissed, looking back over his shoulder just in case someone was around them.

Secundus raised an eyebrow, giving him a dirty look, "Yeaaah…" he drawled, " _all_ _muggles in Colombia understand English…_ " he said slowly, his eyes balling the ironic existence of Quirrell's' highly visible book title.

Quirinus sighed at his friends' comment of sarcasm, before shrugging his shoulders in defeat. He caught Secundus's humorous glance before the two exchanged a good laugh with one another.

' _Finally got him to laugh._ ' Secundus thought happily, recovering from his own laughter to find a slight gathering of attention from his neighbourly travellers. His eyes twitched with annoyance, as he rotated his left shoulder with pain and glared at one or two of the bystanders, "Now's as good a time to go as any." he said keenly.

It was a statement that Quirrell seemed to agree with. Now that he too noticed the attention – and was nervously stepping about like a scared little bird.

Quick to act, Themistocles strode off with large confident steps, and had already reached the far end of the backway museum section – Quirrell, hardly able to keep up with normal steps, was forced to run after him in short bursts.

Secundus looked back at his stumbling friend a few times, and forgot _not_ to laugh, which earned him a few scowls – but he could hardly care. He was simply happy to be around his good friend. After spending so much time in South America, he'd become sort of lonely – but now he had a companion he was more familiar with. As opposed to the excavation teams he was always working with.

He then thought briefly, about where they should go to convene.

' _The café._ ' a thought popped, and so it was the café that he would head to – with Quirrell in tow of course.

* * *

Quirrell was exhausted, and he was more than a little angry with his friend – though Secundus seemed oblivious to this fact.

They both eventually made their way to the café his friend had been at in the morning, with his favourite waiter serving the both of them a good cup of coffee. Quirrell ordered a small straight black, while Themistocles ordered a large latte – Quirrell had no idea there was a difference.

"God I love coffee. One of the few things I appreciate muggles for…" the older man gushed, gingerly sipping at the rim of his mug. He sank into his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he melted with joy.

Quirrell however, was someone who hadn't tried coffee before and was bemoaning his choice of a straight black. Thankfully, it was small, so he could probably finish it by the end of the conversation, despite how bitter it was.

His older friend had warned him not to get something _less_ on the tasteless spectrum, so it was his own fault he had picked the "worst" option. He helped somewhat when he auctioned spoons of sugar into his cup.

They exchanged a few topics of interest – some he was absorbed with, others he wasn't. Quirinus had never questioned his friends' capacity for learning. Or rather… never delved much into the history of his pastimes, hobbies and practices – so he was shocked to learn of his scholarly mindset.

Themistocles also introduced the waiter who was serving them, and Quirrell had to admit that she was beautiful – she looked like the kind of woman Secundus would be interested in, with her maid like dress and tied up blonde hair – and a face that generally exuded a feeling of friendliness. She ultimately left to attend other customers – but he occasionally snuck a glance, even though he told himself not to.

He had a feeling that she was the reason Secundus had brought him here.

He then smiled in remembrance of a topic, before placing down his cup and laughing, "So I heard the Ilvermorny scholars are getting pissed at you." he said impishly, resting his head in the palm of his right hand, propped up by an elbow against the table they sat near.

"Oh yes, my work has garnered a slight bit of negative attention." Themistocles snickered with his head low, "Something about my Britishness must piss them off. Either that or because they can't do anything about me, after all - this is Castelobruxo territory in the first place." he suggested with an equally roguish tone, jauntily stretching his arms out over the rests of his chair.

"Oh, it probably has to do with your entire presence in the Americas… their continent, their area." Quirrell stated calmly, "You've been building up a reputation. Infamous or otherwise."

"Have I now?" Secundus queried, his brow quirked with surprise, "hmmm, interesting…" he said intuitively, folding his arms and blowing out his cheeks in exasperation. "Alright, how about you Quirrell, you excelled in Muggle studies didn't you?" Secundus asked unexpectedly, turning the attention, his expression unusually serious but still enthusiastic.

The recently graduated student looked up from his cup, and at his friend, tasting and all the while muffling a short ' _mmmhhhmm_ ' as an affirmative – though he was somewhat confused, as they'd only recently left the topic of magical pets. He finished, face contorting at the virulent tang of caffeine, "Muggle studies and-" ***cough*** "-defence against the dark arts. Jesus Christ all mighty!" he choked, hitting his chest with a hand, as he forced the gulp down, "Dumbledore is also offering me a job for muggle studies; I told him that I'd accept."

He barely got through his sentence before covering his mouth with a napkin, but Secundus was already speaking.

"Well colour me surprised!" the older man breathed, raising his glass with a classy stroke, "He offered it to _**you**_?" he queried genuinely, seeming somewhat impressed.

Quirrell felt proud, yet disappointed at the same time, and couldn't help but frown bitterly, "Yeah, but I wanted the defence against the dark arts position instead." he admitted, raising the book Secundus had seen him holding in the museum, "M-muggle studies will have to do for now I suppose." he stuttered, avoiding eye contact and rubbing his hands on his thighs.

Secundus snorted knowingly, "It is a good salary, no wonder you refused me." the archaeologist chortled – his face and eyes directed at Quirrell, but not wholly focused on him, as it seemed he was already thinking about something else.

Speaking with his friend actually felt like conversing with Dumbledore – though the headmaster was much calmer and much more knowledgeable in separate areas of expertise. The familiar feeling was overall, the idea of success. Here was an efficacious man, a self-made man. One who exceeded most and would continue to do so for the rest of his long-long life.

This was why Quirrell felt so awkward talking to him because he was half a man less than Themistocles was. He felt like some kind of parasite, struggling to cling onto his friends' success. Even though Secundus was so good for him. It was for this reason that Quirinus felt bad.

 **He also didn't realise his friend was speaking.**

Secundus continued without this knowledge, "Since you're on holiday… you'll have some time to help me with something. Right?" he postulated, ending his sentence with a command like rhetoric, which was precisely when Quirrell zoned back into the conversation – and feeling a bit silly.

He reached deep into the breast pocket of his shirt, not waiting for any kind response or riposte, "You haven't started your job yet… so this time I'll make you an offer you can't refuse." he smirked, rummaging around for a short while.

Quirrell lifted an eyebrow - if there was anyone who could one-up the offers of THE GREAT DUMBLEDORE himself, it was Themistocles. Judging his friends' hand as he pulled out a slip of paper. He quickly realised the age of the parchment-like quality, quantifying his belief of its genuine nature. It must have been something that his friend had dug up. Quirrell gave an estimation of perhaps, six hundred years of age – but he was no trained professional.

Secundus left the papyrus directly in front of Quirrell, but let it sit there, without any sort of intention in opening it himself – instead opting to sit back.

He gestured for him to open it, almost cocky in the way he did it – and somehow regal.

Quirrell looked up and down, hesitant. Until finally unfolding the parchment before him, and he regretted nothing…

It was a bold, hot, blood red eye. Boiling within its own monochromatic power. The pupils were not ordinary, as they seemed to have split into three separate dots, each one ending with the flick of a tail. It was mesmerising, hypnotising, and beyond what Quirrell could understand. Yet there was little he could gather from just a simple drawing.

At first, he thought the artistic item, a piece of lost history – pertaining to the worship of a god or a figure of importance. But the more he thought of its symbolism, the more of a feeling that he got he was wrong.

He stilled at the sound of a clearing throat, looking up and at his friend – who had straightened up in his seat.

"We made an enormous discovery Quirrell." Secundus announced, grinning proudly with an odd look of certainty, "This will change the way the wizarding world will see magic…" he pronounced definitively.

Quirrell half doubted the statement, but persisted with an inkling of curiosity, with a passive bow of his head he asked, "What is it?" another dozen or so questions bubbling in his mouth.

Secundus paused, shaking his head, "More like… ' _when_ is it?'"

Quirrell gave the older man a questioning look, one that asked ' _What do you mean?_ '

"A calendar." he had said simply in reply.

"A calendar?"

"A calendar," he affirmed, unmoving in his seat.

Quirinus had little to say. He couldn't think of any way to link ' _a calendar_ ' to an eye. Perhaps the rotund nature of the pupils' symbolised time. On the other hand, perhaps it was something else entirely. Whatever it was, he waited desperately for his friend to explain.

"Five months of excavation, two more of trap weaving, hexes and more… before we found a diagram counting down." he breathed, unveiling other images of interest, "Its origins are unknown, but the design is uncannily similar to the Buddhist temples of Japan."

"It's counting down to what… an event?"

"An event… a person… a movement, maybe even all of them put together from what we've seen." Secundus inferred, flicking out another paper, one that was a moving image of a man translating what looked to be hieroglyphics, "It's only a small sanctuary, but it links closely to the Muggle story of El Dorado… do you know of it?" he inquired, extending a lazy digit in the near direction of his friend.

Quirrell nodded in recognition, "El Rey Dorado… the muggle myth of the ' _The Golden Man_ '. The legends surrounding El Dorado changed over time, as it went from being a man to a city, to a kingdom, and then finally to an empire."

Themistocles snorted, "So it's all of them." he sighed as if he used Quirrell's own personal history lesson to solve something in his head.

"Are you saying El Dorado is real?" Quirrell reserved, looking uncertain – but at the back his head, unsurprised at the magical link of the muggle myth.

"That's for you and I to find out." the other man replied, making him raise an eyebrow, "I'm saying that I've already found El Dorado… it's all about getting there. I've already the map to ' _The Golden City_ ' you see..."

Secundus sighed, looking away for a brief moment, his gaze breaking. His fingers rubbed pithily at his temple as if he'd gotten to the most difficult moment of a mind game, "But why is it important... what's really there?" he balanced, sighing.

"Oh, you know... only the origin of magic itself, la-di-dah." Themistocles answered nonchalantly, completely self-assured as he was absorbed by a lock of his hair, his fingers twirling around it. "I'm inviting you… to join me-" his friend continued, "You'll be famous… imagine it, ' _The Daily Prophet: Secundus Themistocles and Quirinus Quirrell… discoverers of the long lost El Dorado published 1987…_ '. THIS IS THE OPPORTUNITY OF A LIFETIME!" he exclaimed, reaching both hands over to shake Quirrell by the shoulders, "You'll never be laughed at aga-"

"Secundus…" Quirrell intoned lightly, interrupting his friends' potential sentences, and shaking his head with a look of guilt.

He had to make a choice. A difficult one, one that he knew which answer Secundus wanted – to throw away his potential job at Hogwarts and to be **successful**. He felt as if a thousand stares were sent his way, but in reality, it was only one – but it was the only one that mattered.

He wanted to accept the offer…

He should accept the offer... everything pointed to this... to this one point in life that would GRANT HIM what he wanted...

But he couldn't accept the offer.

No.

He shouldn't.

Quirinus knew he didn't deserve an accomplishment like this, he'd done nothing when it came to the expedition Secundus had led out, with whatever crew he had with him.

Themistocles warranted a better friend than just, ' _Good ol' mister Quirrell_ ', he laughed inwardly, looking up at his friends confused, and pleading eyes.

' _He's such a good friend._ ' he smiled, feeling partly frustrated while he cleared his throat.

It felt like forever before he could actually say something, but he eventually did.

"That's your prize. Not mine."

It hurt when he said it; after all, it was a missed opportunity. One that he willingly threw away, but that didn't lessen the pain of it. They were short, simple words – yet they held meaning to them. Secundus's immediate expressions seemed to know this as if his friend was expecting him to dour this kind of response.

That made him flutter. Made him happy that his friend knew him so well. But he would still decline nonetheless.

Secundus looked to say something but was cut off by Quirrell's' next words.

"I wish you the best of luck. I really do. So be careful…"

He got up to leave, quietly paying his check before giving his friend one final glance.

He just sat there, a look of betrayal apparent on his boyish face, and the once happy expression simply wasn't there anymore. The younger man wondered if what he did was wrong, and the guilt built up in his heart, returned ten-fold. But it was too late in his eyes.

And he finally left.

For that was the last time Quirrell ever heard from his friend ever again.

* * *

 **THE AMAZON**

 ***WHEEZE***

The Uchiha's heart re-joined to the susurrating tune of his gasp, hollowing his lungs with life as he quaked with a sense of reanimation. His eyes rolled forwards from the back of his head. With his face cold, and with perspiration.

For that brief moment, his vision blurred, and the feeling of tiredness pushed down on his shoulders – as he collapsed once more against the ground beneath him.

It was a cycle of pain. A feeling that continued for what seemed like forever – as he died and revived, repeatedly.

His eyes searched randomly, confusion lurking in his thoughts, ' _Can't breathe!_ ' he swiftly realised, as a foreign substance made its way into his mouth, his jaw crunching hard on nauseating grit and bile.

His _feeble_ arms pushed weakly in contrast to the elementary refinements of a banked seashore, shaking as they went, as his trivial figure sat himself up. Getting into a situation less comfortable, but still upright. It took too much energy. Valuable energy.

He felt wet, with smidgens of sand stuck all around him – but he was blind to see it, as he flayed about like a wild animal, wanting to scream but unable to because of the material.

Fruitless efforts to brush off the flowery powder felt like playing with smoke – as it combed through his fingers like silk.

He pat himself over, spitting repeatedly, and feeling an upcoming gag reflex that made his body tremble.

' _Oh crap…_ ' he realised, all too late.

It was in his hair, it was in his pants, it was in his mouth~

 ***BLERGH***

He vomited with clenched fists! His mouth ruptured violently with little bits that clogged and churned in his throat, and to his dismay, the action did not rid his mouth of the substance. So he retched again, then again, again and again.

It burned.

He pounded desperately at the ground, trying to get the last bits out, with the still lingering sensation of sand, clung all around his insides.

It took a few minutes of gruelling pain to stabilise, as he breathed quick heavy breaths, making him dizzy and blind.

"DISGUSTING!" was all he could yell, while trying hard to keep a straight face, but failing miserably.

Sasuke was in a moment of antipathy and puzzlement.

He roared with displeasure, gagging on air and the uncouth taste of bile. His stomach was emptied of food and whatever digestive fluids he had – fluids he was almost lying on top of.

' _Beach._ ' he collected simply, gaining insight on his surroundings, and for good measure, spat some of the taste from his mouth again, ' _I feel like crap._ ' he thought to himself, his vision hazy and knotty.

He crept off to the side of his mess, rolling onto his back with a grunt and a thud, as he struck with the soft mushy ground. He gently bit his lower lip, nose breathing in heavy and slow, as his chest puffed up and down like a blacksmith's bellows.

Now that he could see it. The sky was a bluish pale grey, much like the beginnings of a new morning day, though it was decidedly ' _not_ _morning_ ', but a peculiar time of the ' _afternoon_ '. He raised a hand to the heavens, peeking through his small sandy fingers, as the clouds parted and joined in miraculous union.

He could hear large masses of running water, crashing over and over in the rhythm of a heartbeat.

He tilted his head slightly, to spot thunderclouds moping over a thriving, murky blue Pacific sea. Its crests and troughs an endless process of wild epic freedom. Waters washed closer and closer to his face, as they brushed to the side of his cheeks like an affectionate lover, begging him to return to the ocean. ' _Did I come from there?_ ' he questioned tiredly in his mind, drool pooling down past his unexposed cheek.

Lightning struck the horizon – while seconds later, thunder hit his ears. The resonation bit into his soul like a partial melancholy, as the beauty and gloom of nature, filled his mind with realisation.

A realisation that he was not home, because home, was not this wild and home was certainly not this beautiful – or at least it was a different kind of beautiful.

He slanted to the other side, to his left away from the sea, where he found an enormous beast.

It was a giant, darkness-absorbing forest. Boundless by nature and intimidating in its size. Each tree by minimum stood thirty metres in height, their trunks all differing in size. Each green colouration looked more menacing than it should have been, toxic. Every patch of brown bark a symbol of rough, bleak and unliveable standards; made not for humans but animals, which would thrive from the death of weak children like him. ' _I'm gonna die here…_ ' he thought grimly, the pessimistic thought somehow taking control of him.

To Sasuke, it looked completely different from any of the forests he'd ever seen – which was why he was so scared.

' _What happened to me? Where am I? What do I do? How did I come here? Wasn't I just in the Konoha forest?_ ' he thought idly, his hand clutched markedly around the throbbing pain at the back of his head, and his other one pressed softly against his face as his nose nuzzled in whatever comfort it could find – ' _piss weak and scared_ '.

He gasped, as the soles of his feet stiffly flattened against the schmaltzy ground beneath him, as his back arched pitifully. He beheld an unholy grimace, as he mustered whatever core strength he had within, to guide himself into a sitting position. That was more energy wasted. If he kept going like this… ' _I would surely die…_ ' he thought.

Speculating the environment enough, he bowed his attention to his own being – _**trying to get some clue as to**_ _**why he suddenly awoke in this… place**_.

His eyes were bloodshot, his lips cracking and his hair messy. His skin was paler than usual as if reflecting an inner turmoil – he was in much worse a condition than when he was before, in the Konoha forests. Not a good reaction to the climate. He was still adapting to it.

He felt the sand falling from his skin, his shirt hot and sticky, soaking up the continuous flow of sweat; it was humid much to his chagrin.

Sasuke wore a long sleeved shirt, with flannels that came to the mid-section of his neck, and he sported some torn up pants, which had holes all over it – the new quality irked him.

So he quickly tore at his pants, ripping shreds from it until they were more comfortably suited to the environment – while also rolling up his shirt sleeves of course. He unceremoniously tossed the ruins in the direction of the sea, uncaring for if they actually landed or not – it was a bit windy.

"I can't stay here," he said to his lonesome, as he realised he was wasting time. ' _I'll wander the shore, maybe I can salvage some food and perhaps equipment – nii-san once talked about the trash people left on the beach, after taking a missio-._ ' his thoughts stopped along with any movements he had.

His jaw clamped hideously, and a tear ran down his the side of his nose, ' _How dare I think of him… for advice…_ ' he carped, eyes thinly contorted and angrily pointed.

Itachi. All his problems came back to Itachi.

He didn't even need a reason for why he was here, because it would always be because of Itachi. His brother. The one who betrayed him. Killed their… no. His parents, his family and his entire clan. Even if the thought was irrational, it was there - he blamed _him_.

"The murdering bastard."

He made an effort to get up, clutching his entire body in pain.

The young Uchiha ignored a funny feeling in his stomach, fighting off his grogginess as he lumbered along the seashore. He gathered his belongings, counting them over to make sure he hadn't lost anything – and much to his surprise – he hadn't lost _too much_.

Only… what was most important… his food pills and his drinking water.

So he made a list of instructions for himself. His first year of the academy hadn't supplied him much, but he did have the bare bones of survival training – if he didn't, he wouldn't have bothered running away in the first place – at least not yet… and somehow there were gaps in his memory since then...

Here were his top priorities:

Number one, find shelter. (The atmosphere can turn dangerous quite quickly. If he gets sick, he's done for.)

Number two, find food – (maximum starvation is roughly three weeks.)

Number three, find fresh water – (dehydration limit… one week)

Number four, check health, and number five, find out ' _where the hell I am_ '.

He recited the directives to himself, re-counting Iruka sensei's words to the tee, taking deep breaths to calm himself down because he wasn't calm – but he needed to be.

He was confused. Confused, scared and angry that he ran away from the village. From his family and from his future.

It felt like ages since he'd left the village, overconfident and mad.

Now that he was here, it felt like starting back at square one, just wandering the shoreline – leaving a trail of historical footsteps as he meandered off to his doom.

He found the entire process rather tiresome, and it took some time before he'd encountered a rocky alcove, where he _hoped_ to farm an abundance of sea snails from.

There were rocks everywhere he looked. Ones that arched and towered above him, channelling into the ocean where large potent waves smashed along their bare sides. And other large ones that beleaguered the ground, alongside their smaller pebble cousins – roundly shaped and perfectly skip-able on stiller waters.

The jagged obsidian rocks bit painfully into the soles of his feet – as he had no shoes – exploring the sedimentary areas of the seaside bay. He found young greenish yellow mussels shrinking with his appearance, shrivelling up as he approached them.

Alongside the mussels, growing on rocks – were mossy bits and large thickets of lichen, soaked with water. Sasuke bent over to inspect the greenery, hoping the liquid within was drinkable – but it seemed a little too close to the sea, where salty undrinkable seawater sprayed into it.

He continued along the shore for a bit longer, until he spotted the afternoon sun slowly dropping beyond the horizon, threatening to disappear. ' _I'm not making any darned progress!_ ' he thought madly, grinding his foot fruitlessly on nuggets of grit.

He made a quick decision to venture into the forest, with the intention of setting up camp – in a worthy location, gathering resources along the way. It was a good plan. One that surely would have worked, because he'd been trained at knowing the forest.

However…

The environment of course… looked nothing like what he'd learnt at the academy. So he knew nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He was getting quite the suspicion that he was _**somewhere foreign**_ , and he still had no idea how he ended up in a place so extraneous. He had the strange thought that he was washed up by the ocean, but even that he was not so sure.

He was hungry _now_ , having vomited so much earlier – but there wasn't much he could do about it, apart from continuing his journey through the rainforest.

He was shocked at how much life he saw; every turn he found something _weird._ There were plants of characteristically long structures, shaped in lobster claws and flowers so detailed in their wild blossoming natures.

The flora enveloped him and the fauna avoided him, but they too were strange in his eyes. A lot smaller than the ones the Konoha merchants had described to him when telling stories of their escapades; his mother shopping at other food stalls. Not only that, but he couldn't identify a single characteristic similar to the ones in their descriptions!

They were red, orange, purple, blue, yellow and more… or even a mixture of them all. He couldn't decide which colours meant danger, and in such a bizarre environment, he'd best not leave it to his rudimentary familiarity – best not kill himself while desperate and uncaring. Because of this, he could no longer safely choose what or what not to eat – because none of it looked safe to him – and that was beginning to make him panic. Like _**panic!**_

And now…

All he saw was the jungle. Never-ending jungle. And the scary thing was. His journey had only just begun…

* * *

As it grew darker, it grew colder – and soon the night was upon him. A great big moon soon rose into the evening sky, and Sasuke had found nowhere safe to rest. He explored whatever he could with a great big frown – which looked more like a pout – but nobody was there to tell him that.

Three nights, he'd thought he was a little used to the darkness by now. But by far, this place was somehow worse than where he'd been before, the last two nights – in the Konoha forest. At least back then, he could see what was in front of him.

All this time, the Uchiha boy had not taken into account the environmental change that would affect his maintained hydration.

He would continue to dehydrate at an accelerated rate than when compared to an urban milieu, where it was _coooool_.

He expected it to take a long time for this to happen, but he was already using a lot of energy. His movements were more sluggish than when he was at the beach, which was already bad, but this was worse. He could hardly keep going in a straight line, before almost crashing into something – something he couldn't see.

Even if it was night, it was still too hot! Every now and then, he'd wipe off a brow of sweat, flinging it into the long night. The humidity just didn't improve, despite the obvious temperature drop, and Sasuke found it hard to concentrate – with his level of thirst dangerously low…

It was a non-stop nightmare.

He landed in mud; he fell in ditches; he walked into cobwebs. He'd screamed at least fifteen times by now!

He slashed and stabbed his way through the undergrowth, as the foliage continued to overwhelm him. He swatted away giant-sized bugs. Ones as big as his hand, if not bigger – and he knew they were all dangerous. They were too predatory to not be dangerous. It was a bad sign.

The conditions worsened to a state where his kunai could no longer brute force the vines. Where madly striking at them would only result in-

 ***WHUBAM!***

getting knocked clean off his feet.

He lay still for a good minute or so – completely dazed. He didn't realise how strong the vines could be.

He got up, his feet stepping all over as he got his head together – his face looking somewhat stupid, and red near the part where he was struck.

"Damn this…" he emitted bitterly, grappling the vine with his bare hands, "I'VE HAD ENOUGH!" he strained, veins showing near his temple.

 ***SNAP!***

He grunted as the vine broke in two, almost falling over as he did so, unbalanced and tired. Like an old grandpa who carried too many groceries.

Sasuke eyed the forest flesh, before throwing it aside.

With another hard strike, metering down an entanglement of flora, the wall in front of him fell.

A thousand dazzling lights lit up his vision, forcing his hand over his eyes to protect them, as he was blinded by the tranquillity. An awed expression helming his face.

Sasuke's jaw dropped at an odd angle, "Whaaat… is this?" he faltered, his kunai loosely falling from his hand.

It was a scene of darkened harmony, completely wild and entrenched with bare, gentle serenity. It somehow looked amazing in the moonlight, with a lack of vegetation overhanging the rest of the forest prospect.

The plants were all replaced with the most amazing grove, as tall trees appeared to stop growing, but instead, warded the stunning pasture of living breathing nature.

Taking up a large compound of space, was a large cave.

It stood proud against the face of a large rock cliff – one that Sasuke had not noticed from afar, because of how dark it was – and because of the blocking trees that hid his vision.

Fireflies flung about like distant starlight.

They were comets that breezed over grass – illuminating every crack and crevice. Some buzzed around Sasuke, and for once, he didn't bother to swat the insects away.

 **It was purity incarnate.**

"Beautiful…" Sasuke sang as a jovial smile stole his face, "It's beautiful!"

He hadn't smiled for a long long time. So many things brought him down. But this… it outshined all the negative experiences, made him forget his journey as he appreciated nature at its finest.

His obsidian black eyes balled the entrance of the cave like a hawk stalking its prey.

' _There's shelter…_ ' he thought happily, jumping to a run and almost falling a few times.

The large cave was mostly empty, with a few odd animal bones and hides strewn across its floor – but it had no predator. Which to a hungry, cold, starving and scared young boy – seemed good enough.

However, it was dreadfully dark.

His first thought was to light the place up. Make a good bonfire.

The rest of it seemed fine. It was a lot bigger than what it seemed like on the outside. At the back was a low hanging ceiling, which didn't seem to lead anywhere.

However, there was an unusual background noise Sasuke couldn't quite get a grasp on – it seemed to elude him.

He paid it no mind, his body was screaming from tiredness, and he had to tend to it.

He was an absolute mess; there were twigs and mud in his hair – if you could call it that anymore, and there was still the issue of dry, wet sand clung on the inside, and outsides of his clothing.

Never mind the endless number of bug bites he found on himself. He scratched them, and that only made it worse – it made him hum and hug himself with frustration, biting his lip.

Seeing no real way to clean himself up, he gladly ventured back outside the cave, to gather a bunch of sticks, leaves and anything dry. Noticing that he had managed to outrun the storm from earlier.

With a sigh, he piled up the items and stepped back for the final phase of his campfire.

He then made the standard jutsu hand seals.

Horse

Tiger

Serpent

Ram

Monkey

Boar

Horse

Tiger…

' _One big breath… and…_ **KATON: GOUKAKYUU NO JUTSU!** " (Fireball Jutsu)

Vast flaming waves spouted from the young boys' mouth like a water fountain, and before long, he'd had a fire going. He made sure to decrease the size of this jutsu, otherwise, he might have filled the entire cave with flame - burning himself in the process.

Life sprang back into his eyes like a rush of water, and he couldn't help but jolt with laughter.

He slowly sat back down. Laying his equipment in front of him, and finally getting a moment of peace – as the glow of fervour, lit up the cave around him.

…

He palmed his face with both hands, coarsely rubbing it, ' _Why can't I remember how I got here?_ ' Sasuke thought, wrinkling his nose with his hands to the fire, using his time to contemplate the situation.

' _Why and how?_ '

…

The afterthought lingered, and his young tender neck arched forwards and over. Craned above the belongings he'd thrown onto the very ground he'd been sitting on. He had stolen many scrolls from the academy, as well as some from the Hokage monument - even the Uchiha library. Among those, he brought various other training items, stuff Shisui his cousin had recommended him learning - things that would help in the increase of his power over Itachi.

He was stone-faced and unhappy, fidgeting with his fingers and making a steeple of them – using them to hold his kneecaps, as he brought them near his face to huddle.

He held the position for short while, before cringing and pulling away – flinging his reddened hands like jelly. Mouthing a curse under his breath.

'There's nothing to do.' he thought bitterly, huffing.

He pulled out a picture of him and his family, taking it from his bag.

Itachi was in the foreground as he cradled Sasuke in his arms. But he couldn't tell what his expression was, as Sasuke had drawn over it with a pencil, darkening his face with led. He forgot he did that. He almost expected his brother to wear a smile, happy proud - looking down at an even younger baby Sasuke. Sasuke was only 3-months old at the time, but now he was 7 years old.

Then there was Mikoto. She stood there with Fugaku, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. Neither of them was really smiling. Only posing.

…

He always found an excuse to play with his mother's hair, wrapping it around his small little hand while she was working; gently pulling at it while she made funny faces at him – negotiating terms of _peace,_ so she could work again.

But he wanted nothing more than to cling to that beautiful woman he called _**"Oka-san!"**_ before nuzzling in her clothes and gifting a toothy smile to his mother.

He would never forget that memory…

" _ **I'll never let go!"**_

 _ **She promised in response, lowering herself down to his height and blowing a playful gust of air into his ear, making him laugh as he struggled in her sudden grip.**_

When he cried, she responded with loving cuddles and kisses. Making him tomato onigiri, feeding it to him by bits; he insisted on eating it himself, but he enjoyed it all the same.

…

He remembered laughing while running all over the household, giggling until his father caught sight of him.

…

"It's not fair…" he whispered, his fists clenched tightly.

The photo crumpled in his hands, his glassy eyes filled with sadness, and his face scrunched with shame, "Why did I live? Why didn't I die-"

He stopped.

He wanted to say more, but when the words would not come, the tears did. His father always taught him to be dignified and stoic. But he cried like a child, noisily, with running snot and choking sobs.

There was a rawness to it as if the pain was still an open wound.

As much as he tried to hold it in, the agony came out like an uproar from his throat, in the form of a silent scream.

The beads of water started falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. He clawed at the ground and tried to scream, but his voice was melted by the sound of a crackling fire. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was gone.

Everything except him, and Itachi – grinning cruelly, in his mind's eye.

"Go away…" he whimpered, swatting at empty air – as if he was striking at his brother, "l-leave me alone," he said again, even weaker.

Itachi just laughed. Laughed at his pitiful little brother, clinging to life in the middle of nowhere. Without purpose. Unmanly. A failure.

Now he knew what it felt like to be Naruto. To be ridiculed without shame and purpose - apart from the fact that he was an orphan.

The ghost of his brother continued to haunt him for a while, until finally when Sasuke no longer had the energy to think of him.

He held the kunai close to his chest, aimed inches from his heart, ' _I could end it all here._ ' he thought, letting out a harsh breath, ' _What do I have to live for?_ '.

 ***GROWL***

The noise caught him off guard, slamming him from his thoughts.

His eyes darted, alert of their surroundings, and he barely caught the sight of a tail scampering away from his peripheral. He rubbed at his eyes, unsure if he'd actually seen it or not.

' _Is something bringing animals to me?_ ' he thought, looking himself over, ' _oh…_ '

 _Of course, he was bringing them over_ , he was almost a caveman. He _needed_ to wash off.

The atypical background noises he'd noted earlier seemed much louder now that he wasn't distracted. Sasuke began questioning his sanity when he thought he'd been hearing water – and it seemed to be coming from the back of the cave, a place he thought he'd checked out already.

He gave a wary glance to the darker section of the cave, seeming to figure that he'd missed something in his brief charting of its innards, ' _whatever it is…_ '

He left behind whatever he deemed unimportant, and soon began to explore. Lowly and quietly, his steps slow and his heels pointed up.

It turns out there was an opening at the very back of the cave, good enough for a human child to fit in, ' _Just my luck_.'

The closer he got to its source, the louder the water seemed to get. Sasuke had never heard water so loud in a cave; in fact, he'd never been in a cave – much to his excitement.

He'd encountered many loose rocks and dangerous formations – but this undiscovered wonder which seemed to lurk around the corner, and it drove his little heart on.

Which, on a trip that had already been going wrong, proved to be his second mistake – as he'd soon find out.

He stumbled on another loose footing, one that creaked with his weight…

 ***CRASH***

A waterfall. There was a waterfall. That made sense to him.

Didn't help that he was falling from the top of it though, took only three _seconds_ to get down.

It seemed longer. His completely brief life flashed before his eyes, the same feeling someone would get when they'd think they were about to die.

His eyes were open the entire way, so he saw other stuff too.

Here's what he saw: Rocks – flying rocks, yet they didn't have wings. They were all around him. To his much-unneeded surprise, he saw kunai – which were also flying, ' _oh._ '

And here's what he heard: a thunderous roar so loud that he couldn't hear his own scream, nor the falling ceiling that he was apparently walking on.

And here's what he felt at the end of those three slowed-down seconds:

 _SMAAAAAAAAAAACK!_

Now Sasuke had belly-flopped into a lake before, many times actually. It was quite near his house, so ' _why not?_ ' it's not like he didn't have permission. Sometimes, he'd aim to make the biggest splash possible; he invited his cousin Shisui to do it one time, just so he'd have some company.

He was wondering if his parents would ever give him permission to fall down a waterfall. As it was now, he probably wouldn't either. Because hitting the water from a height of thirty metres felt like landing on concrete. Worst belly flop ever.

He blacked out, or at least he thought he did – until his head bumped into something – he'd started seeing stars, ' _Nice…_ ' he thought stupidly.

He reorganised his thoughts, his brain still a bit rattled, but functional.

He started to panic, as a deep, dull roar filled his ears from the aquatic above – and the power of the waterfall, still pushing down on him and his back, lying on a lumpy bed of cold rocks.

He couldn't budge, and something in him felt broken.

What unsettled him the most, was how dark it was – ' _maybe I have blacked out!_ ' he freaked, as he began struggling for air. It was obvious he hadn't. But he still wasn't thinking straight. And him not thinking straight, meant that his struggles only made his situation worse.

He was so weak. He could barely even push his body against the power of the waterfall, let alone worming out from under it. He felt fear as he'd never felt it before – as Itachi's words played in his head like a repeater, stalling his every rational thought.

' _It's useless!_ ' he thought, quickly losing his oxygen.

He had seconds before he needed another breath, _10_.

He tried opening his eyes, but the high water pressure just hurt them, _9_.

He tried moving his arms, but one wasn't working, _8_.

His lungs continued to empty, and every movement felt like it would kill him, _7_.

Every movement used more oxygen, _6_.

He knew everything counted on him moving, _5_.

His throat felt like it would pop, _4_.

' _I'm going to die!_ ', _3_.

 _2…_

 _1…_

 _0._

His mouth opened, and many gulps of water forced its way down his throat, as he guzzled down on a watery death.

…

…

…

…

…

…

"My capacity... I've lost all hope for this pathetic clan. The clan... the clan... all of you without measuring your own capacities... had no idea of mine, and now… you lie here, defeated... "

"My pathetic little brother!"

…

…

…

…

…

…

 ***WHOMP***

His broken right arm, flailed outside the water like an uncontrolled hose.

He struggled; he struggled for dear life and revenge. His functioning fist punched upwards, fighting the power of nature as his body lifted like a limbo, ' _I'm not just some kid!_ '

He forced his way through, as he took the entire weight, his eyes fierce and with determination, ' _I'm an UCHIHA!_ '

The waterfall flared red, as an invisible weight of power exploded from within.

 ***POP***

A great vortex of energy clamoured from his skin. He froze like a rabbit caught in headlights. His eyes... they felt good - really good, clarity. Power.

It was still…

Mere moments passed… and the water began to fall again.

 ***SPLASH!***

His legs felt like jelly.

Blindly, he took a single, shaky step through the tumbling brown curtain of water.

A rock rolled under his foot, and he pitched forward.

He splashed underwater again.

Angrily gritting his teeth, he slowly raised his head.

Nothing happened. No water came crashing down on his head.

Dazed, he took in his surroundings. Slowly, he began to make sense of it. He was behind the waterfall, kneeling in a small hidden lake. About thirty metres long by ten metres wide, it was surrounded on three sides by mossy rock walls. The waterfall formed the fourth side, a foaming wall of water that cut him off completely from the outside world.

The waterfall's source led from directly above him, in a cramped tunnel that flowed freely into the lake he was in. Alluvial rock encircled every formation, altering the flow of the waterfall and creating an eerie green cavern underneath. Like jade crystalline structures.

Sasuke wondered if anyone else had been here.

 ***Swish-slosh***

It seemed he wasn't alone. About ten metres away, a circle of ripples radiated out towards the lake edges.

He scrambled quickly to his feet. It was dim in the cavern, but he swore he caught glimpses of scales in the dark-green water.

' _Just… a… fish…_ ' he thought, ' _could be carnivorous._ ' he gathered, stilling immediately - a bead of sweat rolling from his wet bangs.

The afterthought gave him a chill. His left knee was stinging, his right arm unresponsive and probably broken – he did remember rocks falling with him. A red line of blood trickled down his shin into the water. If the fish did want a piece of him, well they were soon to get a message: _come and eat the young boy!_

He spotted rocky foundations mere metres away, and he quickly bounded for them. Wading quickly through the water in no time.

He was relieved, but not for long. As he took another good look at the cavern he was in, he realised that the only exit – was the waterfall.

' _Yep… I'm an idiot._ '

He gazed back down at his injured knee, his hand moving for his shinobi pouch at his back.

He freed the brace, wincing as he pulled out a wet rolled up bandage. His training kicked in, and he snatched a wad of moss from the nearby wall – plodding it over his wound as he wrapped the bandage around it. He was irritated because doing it one handed was not as easy as he'd wanted it to be. It took a lot of strain and effort.

Thankfully, the broken arm was numb, and he couldn't feel much – though he wasn't exactly sure if that was a good sign or not.

He mopped up the blood with another clump of moss, quickly stopping the bleeding. It was at this point, where he got an idea – and he threw the moss to the other end of the lake – hoping there was enough blood.

It splashed into the water with a spin. ' _Decoy._ ' though the result was rather disappointing. There were no more signs of movement, and no scales went after it.

Perhaps his eyes had deceived him; maybe there weren't any fish to frenzy on his life force. Perhaps he'd been wrong in his judgement, the scales probably belonged to a fish that wouldn't try to kill him. It might be okay to go back into the lake.

 ***Swish-slosh***

Another circle of ripples spread across the lake's dark surface. It was nowhere near the place where the moss landed.

Straining his eyes, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a large underwater shadow that quickly vanished in the soupy green water. Whatever kind of fish it was, it had looked much bigger than anything he'd hoped to imagine. Perhaps… a two metre… ' _catfish._ ' he hoped, seeing as they were fish he was most familiar with. And they were appropriately large, to fit his estimate.

Shisui said they grew up to two metres long.

Sasuke stopped thinking about the fish, as he noted his unnaturally good vision now - remembering that feeling from earlier; he clamoured down to his knees near the water, eager, because he had a hint to what his discovery would be.

They were red. His eyes were red. Red like Sharingan.

His mouth went dry, as he stared back at his one tomoe reflection – in each eye. He'd matured the first stage of the Sharingan. ' _I have it…_ ' he understood, prudently touching at his cheeks, as he continued to inspect the superb spectacle.

He had wondered why his eyesight had improved so much, before - when he was navigating the dark tunnel before he fell, he could barely see. But now, he saw everything - every little detail. Even if it was dark. The eye, let him copy jutsu perfectly, on first sight. It let him cast illusions just by looking at someone. It even predicted the movements of an opponent, before they even knew what they were going to do - even going as far as to increase his instincts and reaction speed. This was only the first stage of the Sharingan... his brother had Mangekyou... and they are on a whole other level of power. In the right hands... these eyes, these hereditary eyes, unique to only his clan... could be weapons of mass destruction.

There was no sign of outward victory. But inwardly. He was doing cartwheels, he was backflipping and he was jumping all over. ' _I unlocked the Sharingan at seven years old!_ '

What overjoyed him the most was his knowledge of Itachi's age when unlocking the Sharingan, ' _Age eight… I did it earlier!_ '

He let his excitement recede – but it'd return quite soon despite his efforts.

Because something glinted in the rock where he'd torn off the wad of moss. It looked yellow like the sweets Itachi used to sneak home in his _dango_. Or like…

Next moment he was down on his knees again, tearing off big handfuls of moss to expose what was hidden beneath it.

' _WHERE AM I ACTUALLY?_ ' he thought, ogling the magnificent sight.

He could hardly believe his own eyes. AND HE HAD SHARINGAN FOR CHRIST SAKE - THESE WERE MEANT TO COUNTER ILLUSIONS!

Down here in this nowhere cave. He'd discovered gold. GOLD!

There was heaps of it! The more moss he tore off, the more gold he exposed. A ten-centimetre wide strip of the precious yellow metal ran right across the shelf and up the rock wall as high as he could climb, jump and reach.

With shaking hands, he cleared away more moss further along the wall and found a second strip of gold. Then another one after that!

Wherever he tore away the moss, there was gold underneath.

He took a big gulp. The entire rear wall of the cavern was a single, enormous gold nugget! It was bigger than a house.

With a chink of his dagger, he departed with a large handful of gold, placing it into his back pocket.

He didn't know the calculations of gold and its worth. But he knew a small chunk was worth lots… and that a house would no doubt make him stupid rich. This _nugget_ weighed _tonnes_ , and maybe even more than that.

Ignoring his earlier petty dangers, he instantly jumped into the lake again, wadding the water to get to the other walls. He spotted moss everywhere.

Gold fever hit him like a brick. If he ever made it out of here, he would have a Sharingan and he would be rich – both very valuable in the search for Itachi.

He was so lucky. Impossibly lucky! He didn't even know how he would get all this gold out of the cave, perhaps he'd have to make an investment – to sell it off to a mining company. _If_ he found a civilisation that is. Then agai-

He stopped.

…

 ***Swish-slosh***

This time the swirl was close. Only a few metres away, and Sasuke reached nervously for a kunai.

A long, scaly shadow came sliding through the water towards him. There were light scales and dark scales, arranged in a diamond pattern that kept repeating itself, like windows as he ran past them in his house.

' _Crap nuggets..._ '

Suddenly the lake's surface broke open, and a big, ugly dinosaur-like head rose out of the water. And it kept rising, up and up and up, until it towered over him like a giant.

It was a green snake, not that he knew what kind of snake it was – to him, it was just a big fucking snake! He didn't even know they could get that big!

This one didn't look pleased to see him. Or perhaps it was pleased. Because a snake that size had an appetite to match.

A forked tongue flickered for a near moment, and Sasuke slowly backed off, his eyes wide and full of terror.

The last thing he saw, the inside of the anaconda's wide-open mouth. Coming straight at him!

 ***Whack!***

' _Whack?_ ' he realised, his mouth parting slightly.

He held the nose of the serpent for a fraction of a moment, as he flipped over its head - feeling the slow heavy push of this monstrous beast before it could fully strike at him. And there was enough time to send an awkward kick at its side as he flew. He was surprised at his own athleticism, but he supposed it to be an effect the Sharingan had on him.

The snake was huge. As thick as a tree trunk and ten metres long. It corkscrewed its massive body, pushing upwards as it twisted around.

It hooped left and right, up and down. Wrapping its gigantic body around him in slow motion, with water dripping onto his face as if he was under a shower.

He reached his unbroken hand to touch it. He still couldn't believe it!

Its scaly hide morphed underneath his palm, and the sensation was completely different to what he'd imagined touching a snake to be.

' _It's a lot slower than I thought…_ ' he mused, narrowly dodging a lunging bite from the serpentine beast - this was definitely his Sharingan, playing into effect.

He plunged his fist back and forth, his strikes and stabs to ill effect.

"Is there no way to stop you?" he grunted, falling back with a step of disparity.

The snake reacted, looking jumbled as it reared back, stopping in its tracks.

Almost as if it had heard him.

Sasuke bounced on his feet, challenging the snake still, but was equally puzzled by the snake's inactivity…

Its tongue flickered for a moment, until it narrowed its eyes with human curio. Sasuke wondered if it was going to strike a third time, he was still sweating, and the thought of a fireball jutsu lingered in his fearful mind.

A minute passed, and the snake still stared at him, magnetised to his own red, pinwheel eyes.

Then, with speed it hadn't shown before - speed he couldn't even process or behold, it was directly in front of his face... hissing...

Sasuke wondered why it didn't show this speed before... or even... why it had that kind of speed in the first place?! That was unnatural... very unnatural.

Its attention averted like it was giving up. It raised its head, slithering across the bank of the water, until it planked itself along the side of the waterfall – like a rope that reached to the top of it.

And then it stopped.

…

It stopped.

Was Sasuke crazy, or had the snake just offered to help him… go up the waterfall?

He really didn't know what to believe anymore, today was just absolutely nuts.

 ***GROWL***

He took the sign. It was impatient.

Shaking off his fears, and clapping his cheeks with a huff, he gathered enough courage to run up to the animal, climb onto it and route to the top of its head.

And off he went, his broken arm waggling around as wind and gravity whipped at it.

He felt brave and stupid. Brave that he was actually doing it, and stupid that he was actually doing it.

When he finally reached the serpent, it still hadn't moved one bit – with exception to its yellow, lifeless reptilian eyes – that followed him all the way to the back of its tail.

Once again, he was on the scaly hide.

Each step he took felt scarier than the last, as he got closer and closer to the most dangerous part of it. The head.

' _Just a little bit more!_ ' he thought the colour drained from his face, as he continued up to its length, until finally, ' _C'mon!_ '

… He was there.

He jumped off and landed with a roll, before eventually looking back at it.

It seemed to give a grunt, before its jaw unhinged, releasing itself from the rocky face and plunging back into the water. A fall of debris crashing all around it.

The young boy shuddered, a bit shook and still hungry – but at least _clean_.

He was also no longer thirsty, the waterfall had fixed that issue – where he'd (unwillingly) drunk a good couple litres of water. So he felt extremely bloated.

He slowly made his way back to the fireplace, learning from his earlier foot-loose mistake and navigating the route properly. His mind was blank, and his muscles jelly.

He was at a complete loss of words, and he struggled to find one until he lied down next to the fire, where he used a large rock to rest his head.

' _Weird._ '

Yeah. Weird was the right word.

* * *

CHAPTER 1 END.

Hey guys, Frenzied Legion here! That's chapter 1 for you! Hope you enjoyed, if you see anything you would like changed, review, I'm all for it. Leave a follow and a favourite if you enjoyed. (Youtuber promotion flashbacks anyone?)

In the near future, I'm hoping to interact with you guys on some choices for the story… remember to read the AUTHOR NOTE for more details…

With all that said, I hope you have a nice day!

Movie was legit, and I still don't trust critics. Until next time!


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